


Desperate But Not Serious

by walkwithursus



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon - Book, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crack, Crowley is a crybaby, Crying During Sex, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), ambiguous genitalia, crowley is my punching bag, soaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 04:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21130907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkwithursus/pseuds/walkwithursus
Summary: There's only one way an angel can make love without incurring consequences.orSoaking: The art of having sex, without thrusting.





	Desperate But Not Serious

**Author's Note:**

> Soaking: The art of having sex, without thrusting. When a couple "sticks it in" and then leaves it there to "soak." This has become a common phenomenon with certain groups of Christians (predominately Mormons) who try to circumvent the law of chastity, which in fact does not work (Bear, J. _Soaking_. Urban Dictionary. March 22, 2010. Retrieved October 21, 2019).
> 
> I've decided I don't care anymore and am just going to do whatever I want whenever I want.  
My book!Crowley has a comb over ala Neil Hamburger.  
Dedicated to Eric Andre, who cursed me with this knowledge.

”So, you’re saying as long as I don’t move, it doesn’t technically… count?”

From his seated position in the armchair Aziraphale nodded, somewhat sheepishly. “That’s the general idea,” he said, attempting an unaffected smile in Crowley’s direction, which was rather hard to do considering the demon’s back and forth pacing. 

“I just put it in and hold still? No - “ Crowley paused in his step to perform a complicated wiggle of the hips. “None of that?”

“That’s right.” 

Crowley snorted in disbelief. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, quickening his pace around the tiny living area. 

Aziraphale watched his progress and sighed, ever patient. “Look, I know what you’re thinking. I know how it sounds -“

“Do you?” Crowley interrupted rudely, increasingly frazzled. His normally slicked back hair had at some point become rumpled and was sticking on end, revealing his receding hairline. “Because it sounds completely mad, Aziraphale. Absolutely bonkers.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said calmly, choosing not to comment on his use of the word ‘bonkers’. “That’s what I thought at first too. But, well,” he blushed up to his ears, “it’s the only thing I’ve tried in the past and nothing has ever come of it, so I can only assume it would work in our situation as well.”

“What, so, God just has infrared vision or something? Can’t detect movement, therefore it’s okay to just - ” Crowley made another lewd gesture, which Aziraphale turned his nose up at. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s quite alright,” Aziraphale said congenially. “And for the record, I don’t claim to know what kind of vision The Almighty possesses. But I do know there are some things He does not see, and this is one of them.”

At that, Crowley gave an undignified whimper and collapsed on the sofa in a heap. “This can’t be happening,” he mumbled, presumably to himself, as he rubbed the daylights out of his eye sockets. “This cannot be happening.”

“Technically it’s _not_ happening,” Aziraphale said in an attempt to be soothing, leaning forward across the rug to pat the demon kindly on the knee. “Not unless you want it to.” 

“I _do,_” Crowley whined plaintively, melting off the cushion and into a puddle on the floor. “I really do. You have no idea for how long. It’s just when I pictured it, I never imagined it like this.”

“You’ve pictured it?” Aziraphale asked slyly, biting on the corner of a smile. 

Crowley shot the angel a glare from behind his sunglasses, which had plunked back down over his eyes. “Oh, don’t look so smug,” he said grimly. “Besides, that’s not the point.” 

“And what is the point, dear?” 

“The point,” Crowley started, sitting back up in an effort to look composed. A look of steadfast determination had overtaken his previously distraught features. “The point is that we’re doing this. Right?”

“We can,” Aziraphale said slowly, folding his hands thoughtfully across his round stomach.

“Right now?”

“I don’t see why not.” Aziraphale paused. “Although - and please don’t take this the wrong way, my dear. But I’d feel a lot better if you were to sober up first.” 

Crowley made a face. “Or you could just get more drunk,” he suggested, jabbing a finger toward the wine bottle on the end table.

Aziraphale raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow and Crowley sighed in defeat. 

“Fine. Fine fine fine.” A moment’s concentration later and he had risen to his feet, steady as a rock. “Well,” he said, holding out a hand and letting a tentative smile chase the dark clouds from his face, “may I tempt you to the bedroom?” 

“You certainly may,” Aziraphale replied pleasantly, and he accepted Crowley’s hand and stood. 

___

A short while later, Crowley’s thin frame hovered between the angel’s broad thighs, supported on one arm. 

“Is this right?” He asked doubtfully, pausing in the chewing of his bottom lip. 

Aziraphale shifted beneath him before answering, attempting to get more comfortable. “I think so,” he said, one hand rubbing circles on the small of Crowley’s back. He pressed down, urging the demon’s hips forward. “Don’t be shy, now, dear. Put your back into it.” 

Crowley hissed in a breath as he sunk slowly deeper into the angel’s body. Tingles raced up the back of his spine, while a pleasurable warmth lodged in the pit of his stomach, right alongside the anxiety™. “How far in is it supposed to go?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder as though they might be caught at any moment. “When should I stop?” 

“Not yet,” said Aziraphale, attempting to lay kisses to the side of Crowley’s neck. His free hand came up to turn the demon’s cheek so that they made eye contact once more. “Not until it’s all the way in.” 

A tall order, yet faced with the certainty in Aziraphale’s gaze, Crowley decided to give it the old college try and press the rest of the way in on his own. With a low, tremulous moan he brought their bodies together in a single slow thrust, stopping only once he could literally go no further. Aziraphale gave a soft sigh of contentment as Crowley panted above him.

“Lovely,” he murmured, running his fingers through Crowley’s dark hair. “Just lovely.”

“Guh,” Crowley managed in agreement, leaning into the caress as he waited for further instruction. None came. The angel continued to lie there in a state of pure bliss, legs wrapped loosely around Crowley’s waist while thick fingers stroked his stringy hair. Embarrassingly soon, Crowley’s arms began to tremble, threatening to give out under his weight. 

“What now?” Crowley blurted out, unable to take the suspense. 

“This is it,” Aziraphale explained breathily, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

“We don’t move anymore?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay.” Crowley grit his teeth and concentrated very hard. A beat passed. “Aziraphale?”

“Yes, dear?” 

“My arms are going to collapse.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped guiltily. “Oh, that’s okay! You don’t have to stay up like that.”

Permission granted, Crowley dropped unceremoniously on top of Aziraphale, whose breath rushed out in a surprised _oof!_ “Sorry,” he moaned, rolling his forehead against the angel’s plump breastbone. 

“It’s quite alright,” Aziraphale replied once he’d regained his breath, fingers continuing to stroke Crowley’s hair. “Here, why don’t you wrap your arms around me?” 

With a weak nod Crowley did as he was told, snaking either arm around Aziraphale’s plump middle and squeezing tight. The angel was delightfully soft and warm all over, like the most comfortable furnace, while deep inside he was molten hot. Crowley heaved an appreciative sigh. 

“This okay?” He asked, lifting his head so as to look Aziraphale in the eye. 

“Mmm. More than okay,” Aziraphale replied softly, his thumb drifting over Crowley’s bottom lip. “Kiss me?” 

Crowley kissed him. Dimly, he registered the removal of Aziraphale’s other hand from his hair and a fluttering movement between their sweaty bodies. At length he broke the kiss with a reluctant groan and glanced down. 

“Ngk. Oh, fuck, angel, are you touching yourself?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks, already flushed with pleasure, darkened considerably as he nodded. Crowley gave a nervous whimper as the angel clenched around him. 

“Is that even allowed?”

“Haven’t been s-... struck down yet,” Aziraphale grit out, eyes scrunching shut in concentration. “Is it okay?” 

Crowley nodded enthusiastically. “_Ssssatan,_ yes,” he breathed, and he buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck. It was too much to watch the obscene expressions flicker across the angel’s face, perfectly parted lips opening in soft moans and radiant skin glowing with sweat. Hiding his face hardly helped. The soft shlicking sound coming from between their legs and the rhythmic pulse of Aziraphale’s body around him worked in tandem to bring Crowley to the brink without even a single thrust. 

“I’m very close,” Crowley admitted, mumbling the words into Aziraphale’s skin to hide the blush of shame.

“Mm, not yet,” Aziraphale said swiftly, somehow managing to sound firm despite his breathlessness. “I’m so… nearly there. Please, Crowley, would you touch me?”

Crowley gave a groan of assent and replaced Aziraphale’s hand with his own, marveling at the angel’s sensitivity and the velvet softness of his skin. Soon Aziraphale’s stunted breaths became longer, louder, and as he started to come he drew Crowley into a final, languid kiss. The pulsing heat was overwhelming. Crowley bit down on the soft curve of the angel’s shoulder and clenched his fists on the bed sheets as he fought the urge to stroke in and out, nearly sobbing as he did so. At great length Aziraphale’s sighs became sweet and sated, while in contrast Crowley’s breath had never been more ragged, his hair and body damp with sweat. He was at his limit. 

“Aziraphale, angel _please,_” Crowley begged, taut as a bowstring and quivering with the effort of restraining himself. “_Please,_ I can’t - I can’t -”

“Yes,” Aziraphale breathed encouragingly. “In me. Just take care not to move,” he instructed in between soft, sloppy kisses. 

Crowley didn’t need to be told twice. From the moment he heard ‘yes’ he was already spilling, muffling cries into Aziraphale’s shoulder and fighting off every instinct that told his corporation to thrust, to piston his hips as hard and fast as he could and ride the orgasm to completion. Instead the ordeal was slow, and torturous, satisfaction won with tooth and nail, and when all was done Crowley shivered violently in the angel’s arms and felt hot tears on his face. 

For a long time Aziraphale held him, pressing the occasional kiss to his temple and rubbing a soothing hand up and down his spine. Eventually he spoke, and Crowley groaned petulantly as the peace of the moment was interrupted.

“My love?”

“Hrmph.” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Aziraphale chuckled, wiggling pointedly underneath him, “but you’ve become quite heavy.”

Crowley gave another irritable groan before lifting his head enough to look at him. “Does this mean I’m allowed to pull out?”

Aziraphale laughed and nudged him off, and Crowley rolled away to one side, coming to rest on his back with his head on one of the angel’s fluffy feather pillows. Their hands found one another in the space between their bodies, and thin fingers loosely entwined with softer, larger ones.

“Do you think He saw us?” Crowley asked eventually, angling his head to get a look at Aziraphale’s face. 

“You know,” said the angel with a devious smile, “I don’t think He did.”

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
